The Twelve Days of Christmas
by daisychains123
Summary: The Twelve Days of Christmas; Sweeney Todd style. Twelve fics that can either stand on their own but also tie in together, each revolving around things I associate with Christmas. Full to the brim with Sweenett fluffiness. Enjoy.
1. Day One: Snow

**The Twelve Days of Christmas**

**Day one: Snow **

As he looked out of the wall length window of his tonsorial parlour, Sweeney Todd frowned. Something was… _different_ about London today, and he could not for the life of him figure out what. With a scowl he realised that this… _change_ had been gradually getting more evident as the days went by.

And still, he could _not_ think of what it was.

The streets were still filthy, filled with rats and beggars, mud and prostitutes. The buildings were still grey, the only natural life being the filth that inhabited them and the parks - so cautiously designed it mocked Mother Nature simply through its own existence…

But the way the people of London were behaving…

It was almost as though they were _human._

Sweeney was disturbed by this thought.

After all – if they did not _deserve_ to die he couldn't very well killthem – could he?

No. Even _he_ was above murder without reason.

Looking for an invariable, he turned his gaze to the ever grey sky above, and caught sight of something that made him pause: the first snow flake as it drifted gracefully in the chill breeze. More followed it, until the snow itself was a constant in the drab London landscape.

It had also jolted his memory. He knew what was causing London to change so dramatically…

_Christmas._

* * *

"Mum! Look Mum- snow!" Toby said excitedly, rushing to the window and pressing his face against it to better see the swirling white flakes outside.

"Bless me, t'is it snowin' already? Christmas must be jus' roun' the corna' then!" Mrs Lovett said, moving to stand behind Toby.

"Twelve days Mum" Toby said, a faint tinge to his cheeks.

So what if he counted down? This was going to be his first real Christmas- and he just _knew_ it was going to be better than he could imagine.

Mrs Lovett smiled; amused at the childlike quality he had taken on. Toby was aged beyond his years; living in the workhouse did that to you, she supposed. _'Poor dear'_ she thought, while aloud she said in an excited tone "Is tha' all?"

Toby nodded sheepishly.

"I'm sorry luv; my 'eads a lil vague. I shoulda remembered. We'll get crackin' on Christmas as soon as, alrigh'?"

Toby smiled brilliantly, and threw his arms around her waist in a quick hug, before turning back to the window. Mrs Lovett was shocked, but felt a smile tug at the corners of her mouth.

'_He's a good lad…'_

She too turned to the window.

They stood there, entranced by the delicateness of the world outside.

That was, until an idea struck Mrs Lovett.

She grinned.

* * *

"Aaaah!!!"

A scream jolted Sweeney from his thoughts as he stared out the window. He whipped around, just as another yell came from below.

_Mrs Lovett!_

He sprinted to his door and threw it open, withdrawing the razor he carried with him at all times as he went. He darted across the balcony and was halfway down the staircase before he even realised what he was doing. Laughter reached his ears, and he slowed as he flew down the precarious stairs. His eyes fell on a red cheeked Mrs Lovett and Toby, throwing snow at each other.

He stared, shock, anger and _relief_ washing over him.

_She was playing in the snow. Nothing's wrong. She's fine._

He shook this thought from him as he continued down the steps, carefully this time. It was a wonder he hadn't slipped and broken his neck; and it would be just his luck, too. He almost snorted at the thought of his obituary.

_Sweeney Todd: the demon barber of Fleet Street, murderer of London's vermin, has died after an encounter with a slippery stair. _

_R.I.P_

Mrs Lovett would never let him live _that _down. Speaking of Mrs Lovett, her voice rang through the empty courtyard, startling him from his thoughts.

"Mr T! What're you doin' out 'ere wif out a jacket?"

He stepped onto the ground at last (away from those damn stairs) and glared at his landlady.

"I am here, Mrs Lovett, because I heard you screaming."

"Oh." Mrs Lovett paused, holding back the smile that wanted to burst free (He'd been concerned!) "That'd be Toby's fault dear. Went an' put snow down the back of me dress 'e did!" She smiled at her adopted son, and sent him a wink.

Sweeney, however, scowled at the boy. "That was a stupid thing to do- she could get pneumonia, then where would we be!?"

Toby's eyes widened. "I- I'm sorry Sir, I didn't think 'bout tha'…"

Mrs Lovett was practically giddy at all the worry the two were showing her, but decided it had to stop. She bent down, and scooped up two handfuls of snow before coughing deliberately. Her two tenants whipped around to see her glaring playfully.

"If you two are done talkin' 'bout me like I wasn't 'ere; can we get back ta our figh'?"

And she flung the balls at them, snow exploding in their faces.

* * *

He froze.

_Literally._

Did… did she really just-

The snow in his hair and the fact that his face was now tingling with cold confirmed the rather absurd thought that was now calmly buzzing around his head.

'_She threw a snowball at me…'_

He heard muffled giggling, and what had just happened fully sunk in.

'_She is dead._

_And her brat, too...'_

Shaking the snow from his face, the first thing Sweeney saw was Toby, who was brushing snow from his shoulders. He did the first thing that came to mind, and pushed the boy over.

Toby's eyes widened and his mouth opened in a humorous 'O' shape as he stumbled and fell backwards, the snow breaking his fall with a muffled _thump._

There was a ringing silence as Sweeney turned to his landlady with a vicious grin, mocking the smile that had frozen on her face. Her eyes searched his own, looking for the mercy she would not receive. They moved at the same time, Mrs Lovett wrenching up her skirts to allow her legs to move easier as she stumbled away from the murderous barber chasing her. She dashed (as much as one can do so under such circumstances) behind one of the tables kept outside for guests in nicer weather. He followed her, but she refused to move from the table, keeping it always safely between them as the chase continued.

They paused, briefly.

"Come now my pet, stop this nonsense." Sweeney said, refusing to acknowledge the fact that he was near _panting_. She shook her head, and he growled in frustration, jumping with one movement onto the table.

_He had her!_

"Stay where you are, Mrs Lovett!" he snarled, even as she backed away from him. She turned, and before he even thought of what he was doing -or its consequences- he had _jumped_.

There was a brief moment of shock at his foolhardy actions, even as he flew, before he collided with her, and the two of them were rolling in the snow, fighting (for _what_ they had forgotten).

They stopped, Sweeney's hands pinning her shoulders to the ground, snow falling around them. Both were breathless, and after a moment of meeting her eyes, Sweeney smirked.

"And what do you say?"

Mrs Lovett rolled her eyes, but a smile was present as she sighed.

"Sorry Mr T."

Sweeney didn't answer, instead looking at her intently, his gaze skimming over her face even as his eyebrows slowly drew together in a thoughtful frown. Mrs Lovett tried to meet his eyes.

"Luv? I am sor-"

"Shut up." He muttered roughly, and she instantly fell quiet.

Her eyes were still a warm chocolate brown, still ringed by shadows, her eyelashes were still dark, her hair was -as ever- a mess of auburn curls, her skin was still the colour of porcelain…

'_What was different?' _he found himself asking.

Because there was, undeniably, something different about her.

Her eyes had more sparkle, her lashes and hair where flecked with snow, her cheeks were flushed from the cold…

He suddenly had the urge -the foolish, stupid, despicable, _traitorous_ urge- to lean down and kiss her. And as he realised this, he also become conscious of the position they were in. His head was moving closer to hers, and her eyes were widening in . . . ?

In what_?_

Disgust? Shock? _Anticipation_?

He could feel her breath mingling with his, could smell her perfume…

His lips were mere centimetres away from hers when a single thought flashed across his mind.

_Lucy hated the snow._

He jerked his head to the right, and his lips ended up by her ear. He paused for half a second.

"Tell me, Mrs Lovett… do you enjoy Christmas?"

Her voice was oddly strained when she answered.

"Yes, Mr T, I do… But you already knew that."

He pulled back, smirking.

"That I did, Nellie."

It took them both a second to realise what he had said. When he did, Sweeney pulled back sharply, and stood.

"Keep it down out here." He said gruffly, avoiding her eyes, before moving to return to his room. He was just at the foot of the steps when-

_Thwump._

His shoulders tensed.

The thought that his landlady was mad had crossed his mind more than a few times; but none so prominently as just then. He turned to her, astounded by the audacious smile she was giving him.

"Sorry luv. Couldn't resist."

He held back a disbelieving laugh, and sneered, brushing the new patch of snow from his shoulder. His eyes lingered on her face a moment too long before he turned and made his way to his room in silence, leaving his landlady and her boy to play.

* * *

As he sat in his barbers' chair, listening to the sounds outside, watching the sky darken as the hours passed, many thoughts filled his mind.

She was different around Christmas…

Or, maybe… she was the same… and he was _seeing_ different?

He briefly considered the close call, and her last words.

He wondered if he could use that as an excuse, if his foolish notions ever _did_ get the best of him. He shook his head wryly at the thought, and closed his eyes; certain that he would never need to have an excuse ready… for _that _at least.

(Whatever _that _even was… he'd have to think over.. _that_… later…)

As the snow outside fell in a constant, haphazardly beautiful dance; Sweeney Todd slept peacefully. His slumber was void of the usual nightmares that plagued him… instead, he dreamt.

_

* * *

_

_Sweeney smiled as slowly pulled his lips away from hers. His ebony eyes were mischievous as they stared into her dazed chocolate ones, and he held back a chuckle, settling instead for a smirk._

"_Sorry, love. Couldn't resist."_


	2. Day Two: Cards

**The Twelve Days of Christmas**

**Day two: Cards **

Mrs Lovett closed the door behind her gently, not wanting to wake the single occupant of the room. Mr Todd was, for once, sleeping -and quite silently at that- his long legs sprawled out in front of him, slumped in the deadly chair, his fingers resting over the holster which housed his 'friends'. Her hand tightened unconsciously on the item it held, her heart thudding as she quietly crept over to the small table where he kept his barbering implements. She placed the object carefully where he would find it, and quickly fled the room before he awoke. She had tested him enough yesterday; better to be cautious.

* * *

As the door shut, Sweeney Todd's eyes snapped open. What the hell had she been doing? It was far too early for breakfast, even _he_ knew that. It couldn't be more than six in the morning! Not that cared about the disturbance, no; he didn't sleep to warrant caring about the time.

The dream he had had that nightwas quickly and efficiently shoved from his thoughts.

As he sat in his chair, toying with his schemes for revenge, he had heard her ascending the stairs outside. Curious and slightly annoyed, he had decided to feign sleep, hoping she would leave him in peace.

He needed to think, after what he had nearly done yesterday.

…

Then again, maybe he _didn't _need to think.

_Ever again._

Pushing these thoughts from his mind, Sweeney focused on the task at hand: finding out what that bloody woman had done. He stood from his chair, enjoying the loud _crack_ his back made as he straightened, and moved to his table where he had heard her moving his things.

For a brief instant, panic coursed through him- _his Friends! _

But it soon settled as he spotted the envelope placed upon the case that (upon checking) safely held his razors. He picked the envelope up, turning it over curiously.

_What the hell…?_

Flicking his _Friend_ from its' holster, he quickly slit the envelope open before closing and returning it with a fluid motion that comes only with practise. Turning the envelope on its side, he caught what slid out of it.

He stared.

One, two, three seconds passed.

And still, he stared.

His eyes scanned the card, taking in the merry scene on the cover. Two children, engrossed in the snowman they were creating. A boy with brown hair held a striped blue scarf and a girl with auburn curls was on tiptoes as she placed a button in place of an eye…

* * *

_Ben looked over at Nellie, his stomach fluttering oddly as it had been prone to do as of late. He didn't know why. Maybe he was ill? _

_Her cheeks were flushed with cold, and she smiled cheerfully as she finished what she was doing. _

"_Nellie, I wanted to do those!" _

"_Sorry Ben, my buttons, my eyes."_

"_No fair." He pouted overdramatically, and Nellie threw a bit of snow at him, grinning. "You can do the scarf," she giggled, her hazel eyes sparkling. "Keep our snowman warm Ben!"_

_He grinned, and picked up the scarf as she reached to do the last eye…_

* * *

Sweeney shook his head, clearing his mind of long bypassed memories as he opened the card.

_Dear Mr Todd._

_Wishing you a Merry Christmas,_

_Sincerely yours,_

_Nellie Lovett_

The simplicity of the card astounded him. He had half expected it to be crammed full of nonsense; to see that he was wrong was… refreshing.

'We used to love Christmas.' He thought suddenly, turning back to the cover, taking in the suspiciously familiar children. 'Ben and Nellie: we were never far apart, back then…

'I always used to buy her a card,' he remembered, 'and she would make me one, her Father having blown their savings gambling and drinking…'

He scowled at his less-than-fond memories of Benjamin's old neighbour, before a strange thought occurred to him. 'Even before he met Lucy, Benjamin had loved Christmas…It wasn't the presents, or the snow or any of the other things I now find so irritating. Ben had loved it… because _she_ had loved it…'

Benjamin Barker had loved Christmas because of _Nellie_.

He cast his eyes away from the card, ashamed.

He had forgotten.

* * *

Mrs Lovett had just placed her latest batch of pies on the bench to be cooled for the lunch rush when a knock came at her door. She turned, and caught a flicker of legs going up the stairs that led to Mr T's. She went to the door, confused. She opened it, and something caught her attention on the ground near her feet. She bent, and picked it up. A smile broke out on her face as she realised what it was, and her heart swelled with delight.

There was nothing on the front, but when she opened it the message inside made up for the plain bit of paper it was scribbled on.

_Dear Mrs Lovett._

_Also wishing you a Merry Christmas._

_Regards,_

_Sweeney Todd._

Mrs Lovett smiled, and went inside, bypassing the table where her Christmas cards were usually placed, and heading straight to her room. She placed the card carefully on her bedside table and paused a moment, smiling, before bustling back to the kitchen to get ready for the midday rush.

_She couldn't believe he had remembered…_


	3. Day Three: Pudding

**The Twelve Days of Christmas**

**Day three: Pudding**

Nellie Lovett hummed to herself as she mixed the raisins, currents, nuts, cherries and other ingredients thoroughly. Her family had always had a large Christmas pudding for desert Christmas day and with the money coming in from all around at the moment, what with the customers that were _made_ into pies (waste not want not and all that) the customers that _bought _the pies, and the occasional customer Mr Todd let by.

'_They've become more common now that I think about it… Maybe it's the spirit of the season getting to him…' _Nellie thought, grabbing another bowl and whisking the eggs, port and brandy, before tipping it over the dry ingredients and mixing it together.

But the bottom line of it was, Nellie Lovett had always had a family dessert.

And now that she had a family again, well.

She wasn't going to let it go to waste.

* * *

Sweeney had been shaving a customer when he first smelt it. It was a soft fragrance, wafting up from the kitchen below, spicy and sweet rolled into one.

The day long absence of Mrs Lovett was explained as he recognized what he smelt. It seemed his customer had noticed the enticing aroma as well, for he licked his lips, and winked at him.

"It seems you are a rather lucky man, Mr Todd."

Sweeney was still trying to revive himself from shock over the wink, and simply raised his eyebrows in question.

"The way Mrs Lovett cooks, that pudding is sure to taste as good as- if not better than- it smells. And it does smell a treat…"

Sweeny had to agree (silently, of course) as he collected his fee from the now clean shaven man. The entire room was awash with the scent of cherries and raisins and brandy…

He noted that his mouth was watering slightly, and scowled lightly. He didn't even _like_ food.

But that _smell… _It was as though she was trying to bring in customers through scent!

He pushed down a chuckle at the idea, inhaling deeply. He gave up, and stalked to the door, intent on finding the source of his irritation.

And the pudding too.

* * *

Nellie grinned in triumphant as she sat her finished pudding on the bench, steam rising off of it in soft whips. It smelt _delicious_; she couldn't wait for Toby and Mr Todd to try it. They would be speechless, and would ask for thirds, eyes full of admiration and love...

At least, in her mind they would. A smile plastered on her face, she left the room to go clean up.

* * *

Sweeney opened the door a crack, before reaching up and grabbing the bell as he slipped inside, ensuring his presence went unnoticed. Shutting the door quietly, he turned and almost let out a yelp of alarm.

Toby was standing a few feet from him, a mischievous look on his face. Seeing the barber open his mouth (no doubt to yell at him) he quickly placed a finger to his lips, ordering quiet.

Sweeney tried not to belt the boy for giving him orders, but quickly forgave the child when he silently pulled out two spoons from a draw.

Two roguish pairs of eyes met.

A smirk and a grin were shared.

So was a pudding.

* * *

It was about half an hour later that Nellie heard laughter, and the clatter of cutlery. Curious, she followed the sounds to the kitchen, where the sight before her made her gasp.

Sweeney and Toby froze at the sound, the first with a spoon digging into the half devoured pudding, the other with the handle sticking out of his mouth. Both eyed her guiltily as she stood, gobsmacked, staring at the two.

Sweeney released his spoon, and it clanged against the bench. Toby swallowed. Mrs Lovett's eye twitched.

Sweeney cleared his throat.

"Ahem… um… Good evening Mrs Lovett…" he glanced at Toby, the two sharing a wild eyed look that was oddly reminiscent of frogs just before you stepped on them. Sweeney looked back at his landlady, decided he was a dead man, and thought he may as well be a comfortably full one.

He picked up his abandoned spoon, dug a large amount of pudding out and said

"You know Nellie, this is rather good" before he placed it into his mouth with a smirk.

Toby gaped, his opinion of the man beside him changing rapidly.

_Best barber in town?  
Probably._

_Jerk?  
Of course._

_Murderer?  
Most likely._

_Insane?  
Duh._

_Suicidal?  
It would bloody well seem so.  
_

He thought _dead_ might be added rather shortly.

* * *

Nellie felt her eye twitch.

This was just too good to be true.

They thought she was angry!

On the contrary, she was ecstatic; not only did they seem to enjoy the pudding, but they were sitting next to each other without throwing glares and insults!

Sweeney's remark had even caused Toby to stare at him in wonder.

It was a huge break through, in her opinion.

She grinned internally, a wicked idea coming to mind.

* * *

Sweeney knew immediately that he had gone too far. The shocked look on her face was instantly gone, replaced by a murderous one he had only seen once before; when he had looked in the mirror after the Judge's escape.

"What the _hell _are you two doing!?" she hissed venomously, storming towards them.

"I- Ah.. We.. That is..." he stuttered. He could feel Toby trembling beside him, and thought briefly to try and pin it on the boy.

"_He did it! He offered me the spoon! It's not my fault, I swear! _

_I'VE BEEN FRAMED!"_

Somehow he didn't think Nellie would buy it.

She was right in front of him now, and she reached around his side. He glanced out of the corner of his eye and saw that she was reaching for _the knives!_

"Now list'n to me, both of ya." Her voice was trembling- from rage no doubt.

She drew back, a large knife positioned carefully in her hand.

"You will _never_-"

She moved around to stand between them;

"_ever_-"

She jerked the knife to the right and Sweeney waited for the boy's head to fall to the ground.

It didn't.

"Eat off the bench 'gain!"

Sweeney turned to see Nellie lifting the remains of the pudding with the flat edge of the knife onto a plate.

"It's no' hygienic!"

* * *

Later that evening the kitchen was once again full of quiet laughter, the smell of the (considerably smaller) pudding wafting around the warm room.

Toby had fallen asleep against Nellie, his light snoring filling the few silences. Sweeney was desperately trying to forget his stuttering, and Nellie was enjoying tormenting him, her hand stroking Toby's hair gently as he slept.

The two moved their spoons to the last bite of pudding at the same time, and Nellie pulled hers away quickly.

"Go on Luv…" she motioned, but Sweeney ignored her.

"You have it Mrs Lovett."

She smiled gently, and shook her head.

"I made it for _you_. You 'ave it."

Sweeney glanced at her briefly, before scooping up the final bite. He stared at it in silence for a moment, before putting the spoon down, picking the pudding up and breaking it gently in two with his hands. He popped one piece in his mouth, and offered the other to his landlady.

Nellie took it after a moment, and with a smile also put it in her mouth, savouring the sweetness she _knew_ didn't come from any ingredients.


End file.
